


Kings General

by politeasfuck



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/F, F/M, M/M, Medical Professionals
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-10
Updated: 2015-03-11
Packaged: 2018-03-17 07:26:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,538
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3520553
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/politeasfuck/pseuds/politeasfuck
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Doctors and nurses and drama, oh my.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

The past few years had been a nightmare for Arya Stark, moving from Winterfell in the cool North where she'd spent her entire life, to a more seasonal state a bit farther south. Kings Landing had only been a place her family visited every few summers to appease her father's childhood friend. She'd grown to loathe the place, despite her respect for the city's beauty and culture. Winterfell was good for the outdoorsy folk, and while she enjoyed numerous activities in the woods and fields surrounding their home, the change of scenery was surprisingly her pace as well. For short visits, anyway. She'd never dreamed in a million years that she'd actually be calling the place home. 

In her senior year of high school, finally putting her head into her books and trying to decide what she wanted to do 'when she grew up', though at 5'3 there wasn't much growing she had to look forward to. College was almost mandatory in the Stark clan, and while she knew she could fill her time with prerequisites until she declared a major, she was still biding her time. The college in her city wasn't anything exciting, and as much as leaving Winterfell pained her, she wanted a new experience. Still, selling her childhood home and leaving the state wasn't exactly what she had in mind.

Ned Stark had always been in business, though for as long as Arya could remember, it was for himself. He didn't need business partners, just solid employees that he treated more like family than peons. The summer she turned sixteen, the Stark family had spent the entire season, unseasonably cool for Kings Landing had been a scorcher for the Northerners. The youngest Stark girl had an uneasy feeling in her bones when they went home before school started, having sensed something in the works with her father and his friend, Robert Baratheon. The first few months of her senior year went smoothly once she pushed their secret meetings aside and focused herself in studying, only to come home on a brisk November afternoon to boxes crowding their once clear kitchen.

Her father had explained hurriedly, his words cut off as he made multiple trips to the driveway where his truck was parked, only to pick up his train of thought as he walked through the door again. Apparently for months Mr. Baratheon was trying to buy out Ned's company and make it bigger than ever. Father had always preferred quality to quantity, but after seeing Robert's plans and finding his execution of it all sound; the head of Arya's family gave in. Moving production meant moving everything. In a weekend Ned had moved his things to Kings Landing and worked on setting up shop and finding a home for them as Catelyn, her mother, set to work on putting a lifetime of belongings and memories in boxes to ship south.

It'd been two years since the move, but Arya was still bitter.

Sansa, the only other Stark sister, and crowd favorite, couldn't be more pleased to leave the cold of her childhood home behind for warmer weather and thinner clothes. The older girl wasn't so bad, but Arya often villianized her to feel better about the red-head not being equally pissed off about their move. The prettier sister had planned to move to the big city to attend college before the move was even under way, and the fact her once-forever-home was now unable to be a sanctuary to return to on holiday seemed irrelevant. 

Rob, her eldest brother, was already in Kings Landing as well, fresh out of school and working for the Baratheons in one of their many ventures in the corporate world. He seemed hurt that Winterfell would never be home again, but had already spent so much time away it had seemed like a distant memory as it was.

Rickon was too young and curious to care much about where they lived, but Arya could depend on her younger brother, Bran, to be on her team. The two of them were thick as thieves from the day he could walk, following her around as she tormented him. Being 12 months apart, the two were practically twins despite not looking too much alike. Brandon always favored their mother's side when it came to looks while Arya seemed to be the only Stark to take after Ned's family. Still, despite their appearance being so vastly different, the two acted identical in almost every way. 

 

\----

Arya sat in front of her vanity, letting Sansa brush the knots out of her hair as the older girl rambled on and on about how pleased she was that they'd both be dating the beautiful Baratheon boys. The knots in her hair were far easier to vanquish than the ones in her stomach at the thought of Tommen Baratheon being referred to as her 'date'. The two had known each other since childhood but he'd been nothing more than a visual mirror image of his older brother, Joffrey, despite them being polar opposites. Arya smiled at the contrast, thinking about her and Bran. Tommen was nice enough, and for any girl who was attracted to the wholesome, all-American, blonde hair, blue eyed, obscenely sculpted muscular type, he was a dream come true. Sansa and Joffrey had been dating for the past two years since Sansa started school in the city. The older Stark sister had loved the oldest of the Baratheon boys since she first laid eyes upon him at six years old. It was game over from there. Arya, however, preferred to best the younger brother in whatever they played as kids. Growing up and being his beloved never crossed her mind. Still, it was better than the alternative.

Since moving to Kings Landing, Arya wanted nothing to do with boys, who in high school had pleased her mother, now the matter weighed heavy on Catelyn's shoulders. It wasn't the Middle Ages, still, the woman felt as if she had to have her baby girl married off before she turned into a spinster with too many cats. After a while and a few too many rumors, Arya's mother started to play into the idea of idle gossip being true - her daughter was a lesbian. While the youngest Stark girl had her run in with too much alcohol and lowered inhibitions, her rendezvous with the same gender were nothing more than a little fun to be had at the squirming of her male friends. The past summer, Arya figured with her head too focused on school and graduating, and then trying to find solid work, a boyfriend shouldn't be added stress. Thus, her agreement with Tommen had begun. After talking to him online, then via text, she was pleased to find the youngest Baratheon to be pretty accommodating and surprisingly easy to get along with. Again, the polar opposite of his brother. Tommen was a year older than her, studying medicine, and had no interest in dating at the time. His parents were too focused on his sister's engagement and Joffrey's relationship with Sansa to care too much about marrying their baby off. Still, the pseudo-dating of a Stark girl would fare well for him with his family. 

"Hello, are you even listening to me?" 

Sansa's shrill voice jerked Arya out of her own head. Looking at her older sister in the mirror, she forced a thin smile before looking at her own reflection. The 20 year old looking back at her wasn't what she was normally used to seeing. Her older sister had braided Arya's shoulder length hair and pinned it up before throwing a bit of make-up on her normally bare face. 

"I asked... are you going home with Tommen tonight or can I drag you out with Joffrey and me after the gala?" 

Sansa, already dressed in her silky gown, looked like a masterpiece for the event she'd eagerly agreed to attend for the hospital and its sponsors. Arya was bribed into the occasion. The floor length, strapless black dress her older sister wore was a bold contrast to the one their mother had chosen for her. Arya was typically the sister in black, but tonight Sansa wore it better than she ever could. The soft blue floral number she was cursed to wear hung on the closet door behind her. Arya glared at the dress, almost growling at the thought of having to wear something she would never buy herself.

"Oh, yeah... uh, I'll probably be heading out early. Tommen and I wanted to be alone and... You know, just hang out." 

As Arya's cheeks flushed at the lie she told, Sansa squealed with delight, taking it the wrong way.

"Oh my gosh! You guys are going to have sex aren't you?! Oh my Gods, is it the first time? Are you prepared? Do you need anything? Do you have any questions...? Holy shit, is this your first time ever?! Have you ever gotten 'the talk'... oh shit, I should have already prepared you for this."

Staring blankly at her sister's reflection, not amused at the eagerness of the red-head to play health teacher and map out the anatomy and how it works, Arya shook her head and stood up to move around the taller girl to grab her cocktail dress. 

"Calm down, Lassie, no one fell down a well. No need for the dramatics." Pulling her gown on before removing her bra, Arya wasn't sure why she played modest around her sister, for heavens sake the two of them bathed together growing up. Turning her back to Sansa to silently request help zipping the number, the brunette sighed quietly. "I'm not a virgin, but it doesn't matter. We're not having sex. I'm not really into it, I guess."

Even as the words came out, Arya couldn't believe the blatant lie. Tommen was a gentleman. Of course he was. He had to be to go with the all-American look. He was the sweetest man she'd ever known and despite them not being in a real relationship, he still treated her with the utmost amount of respect. It almost made her feel like they were actually together. The first time she tried to have sex with him she felt like she was defacing a church - it felt so wrong despite the excitement. The prelude to the act was sadly more exciting than the main event. Tommen was beautiful, bronze, and built, but for all his best efforts, his performance in the sack was lack luster. If she'd actually been dating him, Arya would be devastated, but thankfully she could find someone on the side to fulfill her needs. Not that she ever found the time to. The dull aching in her pelvis briefly reminded her of just how long she'd been without. 

"You don't like having sex? You must be an alien... or he's not doing it right. Have you tried...”

"Okay, you're done! I can't talk about sex with you, sorry!"

Arya quickly pulled away from Sansa and snatched up a pair of cream pumps before dashing out of the room and down the stairs to meet the rest of their family. Ned, Rob, Bran, and even little Rickon were all wearing tuxes, each one of them looking more handsome than the next. Catelyn, modest as always, had on a peach floor length gown with a shawl to cover her shoulders. It was a shame - her mother was beautiful, and her body was toned from the constant work she filled her days with, but the older woman never showed it off. Part of Arya wanted to take the shawl and hide it so she'd have to bear what she had.

"Oh baby girl, you look so beautiful!" 

Grinning as her father gushed; Arya was quickly followed by her stunning sister and her own presence soon forgotten. It was an act she'd long gotten accustomed to. Together, the family made their way to the limo to escort them to the gala.

 

Two hours into it, Arya was already dying to take her shoes off and go somewhere with edible food. She'd played the proper daughter long enough, she had deserved some time off! Pushing past a group of older men, the young girl smiled politely as she made her way to Robert Baratheon and his wife, Cersei, who had held their youngest son captive in conversation. Tommen, polite as always, looked genuinely thrilled to see her as she slid beside him and gently took his toned bicep. 

"Do you mind terribly if I steal your handsome son for a moment?" 

Batting her mascara coated lashes in her best Sansa fashion, Arya beamed falsely at the Baratheons as they nodded. Pulling Tommen out of their reach and across the large hall to a quiet corner, her forced happiness subsided once the two were alone. 

"Please tell me you're ready to get the hell out of here? I told Sansa we were leaving early. You can do whatever you want, but I have to go before I saw my feet off." 

Reaching up to put one hand on the back of her fake boyfriend's neck, Arya grinned at the older man as his cheeks reddened. 

"Calm down, I'm just using you. As always."

Rolling her eyes, she lifted one leg in the most unladylike fashion to stretch her quads and give her foot a rest, and then did the same to the other leg. Heels were Satan's worst invention, hands down.

"We can actually do something together if you don't have anything else to do?" 

Tommen's sweetness did nothing to shadow his disinterest in doing just that. For a while Arya had wondered if he even played for team Hetero but she figured it wasn't her place to ask. Like many other men, it was probably just her they didn't find attractive.

"No, its fine, I...”

Stopping as Sansa's ear piercing scream echoed throughout the high ceilings of the hall, fear drowned Arya in an instant. Forgetting her foot pain, the young woman ran, pushing past guests to where the noise had come from. Finding her mother with her hands covering her mouth, Arya stopped only when she felt bile rise to her throat. Joffrey was on the floor, one knee anyway, as Sansa sobbed prettily in front of him. How did someone look beautiful even as they cried? More importantly, how did someone accept a marriage proposal from such an asshole?

As the swarm of guests came in, one by one, congratulating the couple, Arya fell back with her father, letting them all have their fill of the disgustingly happy couple. That's what their show was all about, after all. Arya knew Sansa too well to know she was genuinely happy with the blonde haired asshole. Just like she knew, as well, that Joffrey was pure evil. The unsettling feeling in her stomach only worsened as she thought about the idea of them having a life together. Turning to look at her father, she figured he was thinking the same thing with as ashen as his appearance had gone. Narrowing her eyes, fear masked her nausea as she realized she knew that look. She'd seen it in clinicals numerous times in cardiac patients. Opening her mouth to say something to her father, her heart fell as Ned collapsed, giving her just enough time to grab the back of his head as she helped him to the floor.

"SOMEONE CALL AN AMBULANCE!" 

In a room full of medical personnel, somehow none of them drew on their experience to think to try and save one of their own. Everyone stared on in horror as Arya worked over her father. Checking his pulse and respiration, she didn't have the time to panic as she forced her tiny yet strong hands onto her father's chest to start compressions. Everything was silent; the only noise in her ears was her own voice, counting steadily as she gave CPR. 

"Move!" 

Pushing Arya to the side, a man in a tux had made his way over to take over. Looking horrified as she remained knelt by his side, she couldn't help but feel like she'd seen him before. His short, dark hair made his clear blue eyes look more intense than his voice sounded as he shouted at a few people standing around them.

"Go find an AED! What's the ETA on the ambulance?! Can someone get over here and start respirations?!"

Arya had never felt so small in her life, and being the shortest person she knew, that was saying something. Sitting on the floor as everything happened around her, she didn't move even after the paramedics came in and took Ned away. Shock had finally settled as she stared at the floor. He hadn't come to in the ten minutes it took them to get there. She wasn't stupid, hell after this month she was going to be a registered nurse, she knew the odds. Her heart and eyes fluttered as her brain flooded with images of her and her father. What would she do without him?

Her eyes fluttered again, only this time, everything went dark.


	2. Chapter 2

Looking down at her watch, Arya sighed heavily. She was going to be late for her first shift and there was no sympathizing teacher to give her a pass anymore. She was a real nurse now, not just a nursing student, and the boring navy scrubs meant she got shit on just like everyone else – no special treatment. It seemed like all she ever did these days was show up late for things, which wasn’t much different from her old self, only now she had legit reasons. Responsible ones. 

The past two months were a whirlwind of emotions and headaches for the Starks. Between dealing with Ned’s funeral, signing the company and shares over to Robb, putting the house on the market, finding a new place for Catelyn and Rickon to live while Bran and Arya got their own apartment, the entire family was running on fumes. Sansa, according to herself, was doing the worst. She had no time to enjoy the excitement of being engaged, and now all she cried about was never being able to have her father walk her down the aisle. As if she was the only one. Bitch.

Having moved all of her things from her parents former home into a new, simple, apartment, Arya realized how well off she had it. Not wanting to depend on her mom or Robb for help, though they could in a crunch, she decided to use her own funds to get by on her own. Sharing a borderline crap apartment with her brother was the best she could do at the moment. Grateful for the nursing gig she got straight out of school, Arya had flew into the position, surprising everyone, but mainly herself, with how well she did. 

Bran was focusing mainly on his studies, but occasionally picked up a shift at their father’s – now their brother’s – company, doing meaningless grunt work. It paid for groceries, so he didn’t complain. Not to Arya’s face, anyway. She was paying all their bills, but she didn’t mind since his company was priceless. After the dramatic tragedy that overtook the gala, she’d turned into a recluse, only leaving the house for work and necessities. Bran was her sanity. 

Forcing herself to silence the banker explaining things slowly from across his large desk, Arya leaned forward, thankful she’d put her scrubs on before leaving the house – she’d never make it to the apartment to change before getting to work. Hell, if she didn’t leave now, she’d probably be considered a no call, no show. 

“I’m so sorry, sir, but I have to go to work. I didn’t realize this was going to be so time consuming, can we reschedule?” 

Exhausted more mentally than physically, she thanked the man and flew out of her seat, letting him know as she rounded the corner that he could call to tell her when a good time to meet again would be. 

“Sorry…”

Stumbling into a pedestrian as she ran out of the bank, Arya eyed the traffic crowding the street, and then the sidewalks crowded with people. Mentally challenging which would be quicker, a taxi or running, she opted for the run. It would be a good warm up for her 12 hour shift, anyway.

\----

“Alright and when did your chest pain start?” 

Scribbling harshly, Arya did her best not to roll her eyes. She was always a bit cynical, but working in the ER of Kings Landing General had made her the bitter old broad her mother had anticipated her growing into with all 15 cats. A few weeks working four twelve-hour shifts had given Arya all she needed to sort out the types of patients that came through. There were:

The people who used the ER like their personal doctor because making an appointment for a sore throat that you’ve had for three weeks would be too troublesome.

The druggies who knew off hand better than she did that the dosage for pain killers was too low, and would tell you before seeing the ordering physician that Vicodin works better than Percocet. 

The hypochondriacs who spent too much time on WebMD and with their symptoms had convinced themselves they had Typhoid fever when in reality it was allergies.

The actual emergent patients who, surprisingly, were only brought in by ambulance half the time. 

The other half of the ambulance bound patients were the elderly, nursing home patients whose facilities used the ER as a cure all when all the person needed was fluids and Ancef.

The homeless were a class of their own, ranging from psychotic to truly heart breaking, but most of them just needed to detox or get a warm bed and a hot meal for the night.

 

Triaging the patient with a forced smile, Arya nodded, letting the obvious repeat offender know that the doctor would be with them shortly. In two and a half weeks she had seen this patient four times. Sighing to herself, she pocketed her pen and set the patient chart on its spot in front of the doctor’s counter. It was going to be a long, boring day for her from what she could tell. Those days were the worst. Not because she hated seeing patients whose reason for being seen was a hangnail, but because on days when she didn’t have to focus her attention on actual patient problems, her thoughts drifted. She hadn’t done a very good job processing her father’s death, and for that she would pay. At some point.

Looking around at the quiet status of the department, the young woman sighed, catching one of the doctor’s behind the desk give her an inquisitive look. 

“What?” Arya fought the urge the glare at the older man watching her stretch her arms over her head, doing her very best to suppress a yawn.

“If you’re bored I’m sure I can find something for you to do…” His lowered voice dripped with innuendo which sent Arya’s stomach turning. He was old enough to be her grandfather. 

“Not bored, just wondering if it’s gonna be this dead all night.” Turning to look at the unit clerk just in time to catch the death glare from the older woman, Arya took a step back. Had she said something wrong?

No sooner had she gotten subliminally threatened did the phones start ringing. Her heart fluttered with anticipation. She knew it was bad luck to say it, but she needed a distraction. Reaching up to pull her hair into a tight ponytail, she bit at her bottom lip to keep from smiling. People could be injured, she shouldn’t be happy for that.

“MI, 58 year old male, found unconscious on the scene, unknown downtime, CPR started, five minutes out.” 

Peeking behind the desk to see the nurse who’d called it out, Arya sighed softly. Wrong distraction.

“Put ‘em in 12.” 

Adjusting her stethoscope as she hurried to open the doors and curtains, she quickly set up the crash cart and cleared out any obstacles to ready it for the paramedics. 

“Got a 15 year old, GSW to the shoulder, no exit wound, two minutes out, where you want ‘em?” 

The nurse calling out was watching Arya with an annoyed looking, blaming her entirely for the sudden action.

“Put ‘em in 11. Did you page respiratory and x-ray, Mirri? Where are they?” 

Finally feeling the surge of anxiety rush through her, Arya couldn’t help but feel a little guilty. 15 years old? Shaking her head, her mind was cleared as a slender man with a portable machine came rushing down to the trauma room she stood outside of. 

“Did I beat ‘em?” 

The man’s smile was charming, no doubt, but Arya had no time for that. Nodding, she peeked around him to see if anyone was following him. With a sigh of relief, she nodded at the respiratory tech jogging down to meet them. Turning as the cool rush of outside air attacked her from behind, the frenzy started. Two medics worked on the heavy set teenager crying hysterically as they wheeled past, a frantic mother screaming for them to save her baby as they ran to the room next to her. Letting the other nurse across from her take that one, she quickly regretted the decision.

The heart attack. 

The man was around her father’s age, but that wasn’t bad enough. No, he had to look similar. The situation had to be similar. The man’s business suit was pushed to the wayside, his shirt unbuttoned, the AED pads still on him as a man continued compressions. Following them in, she glanced over to make sure her friend, Shireen, the newest addition to the respiratory staff, was behind her. 

“How long has he been down?”

The deep, uninterested voice from behind her made Arya nearly jump. She was still getting used to everything happening at once, but people coming out of nowhere were never her favorite thing. Looking at the elderly doctor peer over the coding man, the young woman’s fists clenched. Dr. Pycelle was quickly becoming her least favorite person. He had a bad habit of assuming the worst and not trying if the outcome looked bad. Perhaps it was too many years of medicine, but if that were the case he needed to retire.

Maneuvering around the one medic hooking the man’s leads to her machine, Arya quickly found the IV to push the epinephrine Dr. Kevorkian shockingly ordered. Stepping back as he cleared everyone to shock, he waited a beat, and then nodded to her to push more. Looking nervously to the head of the bed where Shireen stood, the two girls exchanged a knowing look. This wasn’t going to be a good outcome. This was her father all over again. Forcing her mind to focus on the patient at hand, Arya let her eyes lift to the man who’d returned to compressions. Those hands. Those arms. Oh fuck, those eyes.

Forcing the bile rising in her throat to suppress itself, Arya took a step back as Pycelle gave in and called it. Five minutes of actually trying, that must have been a new record. Stepping back as Shireen pushed by her to attend to the call next door for the teen that was now in respiratory distress, Arya kept her eyes locked with the clear blue ones that were still in her dreams every night. 

“You.” 

She choked out, doing her best to not sound as shocked as she felt. Suddenly, her mouth was drier than the valleys in Antarctica. 

“How the...” 

He was a paramedic. It finally clicked – his eagerness to take over, his authority in the emergent situation, his calmness and lack of emotion as the man he worked to resuscitate died under his hands.

“You’re a nurse?”

His dumbfounded expression mirrored her brain as they continued staring at each other. She suddenly had a dozen questions to ask him, but all she could form was “you”, again.

“Nurse! We need you in here!” 

Looking out to the hall then back to the paramedic, she gave a confused glance before running out and down the hall. 

 

\-----

Several hours later and countless revisits with the man who haunted her dreams every night, Arya was finally giving report to the nurse relieving her. Despite it being three a.m., the department was still somewhat lively, though it’d slowed down a bit from the shitshow that was the majority of her shift. Whatever, she wished it upon herself. Sighing heavily, she forced a smile and nodded to the new shift as she headed to the locker room. This was her life, now.

Pulling a light fleece jacket over her as she walked outside, the young woman took a deep breath and smiled. All of these southerners were already bundled up because of the ‘cold’, but it was refreshing. Almost like home. Reaching up to pull the ponytail out of her hair that had given her a headache from its stay for the past twelve hours, Arya looked around the bay before jogging to the street. 

“Hey slut!” 

Turning around with a smile, she laughed as her friend ran down the street towards her. Never in her life had she ever recalled people running so much. 

“That was fun, huh?” 

Shireen brushed her hair away from the unscarred half of her face, leaving the loose strands to veil the rest. Arya briefly wondered how she worked without her hair pulled completely back. Shaking her head, she reached to lace her arm through the other girl’s. 

“So much fun I didn’t have a chance to eat. I’m starving, what are you up to?”

“Gee, three a.m., I think I’ll go home, knit for a while, and maybe curl up with a good book. Ass. Do you really want to eat?” Shireen gave a pathetic, pleading look. Arya almost felt guilty.

“Well...” Lifting her wrist and checking the time in an exaggerated fashion, she turned to her friend and smiled cheerfully. “It’s officially my birthday, bitch, so yes, I want to eat, and I want you to be fucking thrilled at what a delight it is to share this wonderful moment with me.”

“Oh Gods! I totally forgot, I’m sorry. Your present is at my apartment, do you work tomorrow? I can bring it to you.”

“Dude, I’m pretty sure the Gods have shined on us, our schedules are practically identical.” 

Making their way the three blocks it took to get to the only diner worth going to at that hour, Arya shrugged off her jacket after letting go of her friend to walk through the door. It was fairly dead, only a couple of people wanted to be out at this hour, thus the crowd was primarily medical with their random shift work.

“Can I get you ladies some cof-“

“YES. Loads of it.” Arya cut off the poor waitress before she could finish her sentence. Laughing as she shook it off and walked to the kitchen, Shireen glared at her friend from across the table.

“Be a little needier would you?” 

Ignoring her friend as she searched the menu for exactly what her stomach needed, the girls remained silent until their food was ordered, not wanting idle chitchat to lose them the chance to get their meal ASAP. Once the waitress had taken their order and returned to the kitchen, Arya reclined, lifting her feet to rest across the underside of the table next to Shireen’s lap. 

“So how was your day honey?” Beaming sweetly at Arya, Shireen tried her best to pretend to be motherly. She’d been raised by a terrible one, so the role was foreign to her.

“Strange. Busy. Did you see that medic on our first code? Short black hair, kinda military but grown out? Blue eyes. Muscles.” Closing her eyes, Arya forced the notion aside that the sudden hunger rising in her was for anything but the omelet being made for her.

“Dude, yeah! What the fuck was that? It was so weird. How do you know him?”

“He’s the one…” Looking down as she idly stirred her coffee; Arya knew Shireen would understand without continuing the sentence.

“Him?! Did you know… no you couldn’t have, otherwise… oh my Gods, Arr. Did he say anything after I left?” 

Shaking her head, Arya had replayed their encounter over and over throughout the day, but she couldn’t recall him giving away anything.

“It’s weird, I thought he looked familiar at the gala, and then today… maybe I saw him when I was doing clinicals? I don’t know… but how did a paramedic afford a ticket to the gala? Fuck, why would he want a ticket to it? It doesn’t make sense.”

Arya sighed heavily as she tapped her foot anxiously against the bench. Smiling sincerely for the first time in the day as her food was presented, Shireen caught her eyes, and suddenly her ‘sleuth’ mode had surfaced.

“Oh, there’s a story there, Stark. Don’t you worry; we’ll get to the bottom of it.”


End file.
